As nurseries go, it had the basic things you would expect: a crib, a changing table with drawers, a rocking chair--all in a luscious chocolate brown. The window sported a green floor-length curtain fashioned by the baby's mama and secured at the sides by gold tie-back holders mounted by his daddy. In the closet hung a few tiny sleepers and other articles of clothing, waiting for the avalanche of like items that will spill out into the room after the shower in a couple weeks.
His name was there on the wall in wooden letters stenciled with a kaleidoscope of blue, green, and brown designs. I stood alone in the middle of the room and took it all in. My new grandson will take up residence here in just two more months. His blog name will be Beenie.
The completely quiet house lent itself nicely to my meditations. Although I was there solely for utilitarian purposes--namely, to let the dog out for a spell while the owners were away for the day--I welcomed the opportunity to wax a little more romantic and imagine the room alive with Beenie. I thought about how those skinny little legs would unfold and kick in the air, the red face, the tight little fists, the temporarily misshapen head, the soft bleating cries. Suddenly, he became more to me than the wiggly lump now resting under his mama's maternity sweater and causing her considerable discomfort. In those moments, he became real, this first child of my son, and his will be the fourth little voice to call me "Googie."
Unlike Sooby, Pooh, and Bootsie, Beenie will live in the same town I do. This will make him readily accessible when I need a googie-fix. Although I see the other children regularly, this will be different. I hope I will stop myself short of knocking on their door in the middle of the night, but I have to say I find the idea of having a grandkid I can see and hold and squeeze just about anytime very appealing. And, now that I have seen the completely furnished room, very exciting as well.
The dog scratches on the back door, bursting the bubble of my reverie. I turn off the light, but not before I take a minute to sit in the rocker where I sang Bootsie to sleep on Christmas Day. At the time, the chair was the only piece of furniture in this room. My, how it has changed since then. It has taken on a personality that will soon be made complete with the addition of a special little person.
This is Beenie's room. I am ready for you, baby boy, and I love you already.